Page 15 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)

Chapter

Fifteen

A t dinner that evening, Cordelia could not sit still.

She sat beside Christian, his booted foot slipping up and down the back of her leg, teasing her beneath the linen-draped table.

With the multitude of guests in attendance for the two-week-long house party, none of them were aware of what was occurring right beneath their very plates.

The afternoon had been a marvel. An awakening.

She had not been able to breathe after that shockingly scandalous kiss the duke had bestowed on her in the garden.

To be in his arms was a dream she had not wished to wake from.

He had escorted her back to the house as though nothing untoward had occurred.

As if he hadn’t changed her life forever.

As if he hadn’t opened her eyes to desires she had never known existed.

Now, sitting beside him, she could hardly pretend calm.

To play the perfect debutante. A woman who had not just experienced an earth-shattering embrace that left her reeling.

The feel of his person beneath her. His hardness pressing against her most sensitive of places, before they were so rudely interrupted.

Well, she could barely contain her longing for more.

Around the table, conversation turned to the usual discourse—horses, sporting plans for the coming days, and the duke’s much-discussed new hunting lodge.

He mentioned showing it off later in the week, and Cordelia suddenly found herself longing to see it too, possibly alone, with only Christian for company.

All she could think of was when she might see him again. When she could have him to herself.

"Are you enjoying your meal, Lady Cordelia?" the duke asked, cutting through her reverie.

"I am," she said quickly. "It’s very delicious."

Their eyes met and held. The storm she saw in his mirrored hers she was sure.

"You are spoiling us, Your Grace," Miss Millers who sat across the table, chimed in.

The duke smiled and raised his wine in agreement and salute. "But of course. I hope to spoil every guest I’m fortunate to have who made the journey here. This house party is meant to entertain, and I do hope to fulfill that obligation."

"I’m certain you will," Miss Millers said, her voice unmistakably sultry.

Cordelia looked between them and wondered—did Miss Millers fancy the duke? Not that she would let her anywhere near him now. Not after all that had passed between them since they had met.

If he dared look at another woman the way he looked at her…

Dinner ended, and instead of the gentlemen remaining for cigars and brandy, they joined the ladies in the drawing room. It was a merry first night out of London. Cordelia sought out Jane and sat beside her, watching the guests play cards, gossip, and take turns at the pianoforte.

"Lord Lincoln is here," Jane said. "Did I tell you he asked me to dance at the Felton ball last week? I must admit, I do think I like him. He’s very personable."

Cordelia glanced across the room at his lordship and noted he wasn’t only personable, but also extremely handsome too.

"Rosalind has mentioned his lordship and thought to make an introduction, but I’m yet to meet him.

From what I’m aware, he’s of good family and character.

Perhaps he’ll be the one to win your heart,” she suggested.

Jane shrugged. "Perhaps. Maybe I should go speak to him. See if I can raise his interest."

"Go," Cordelia urged. “Enjoy your night, but I think I shall retire. I’m quite worn out.” She was more than ready for bed.

As Jane crossed the room, Cordelia rose and made her way to Rosalind. "I think I’ll retire early. Do you mind?"

Rosalind reached out and gave her arm a gentle rub. "Of course not. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast."

"Thank you. Good night."

Upstairs, her maid helped her undress, put the room to rights, and finally left her alone. Cordelia lay in bed, sipping tea and letting her mind drift. Just as she was about to nod off, a soft scratching at the door caught her attention.

She sat up, heart fluttering. "Hello?" she called.

The door opened and shut quickly. She glimpsed the silhouette from the hallway light before the room was once more in shadows.

Christian.

He walked toward the bed. "I couldn’t retire without seeing you. I know I risk a great deal by coming here."

She swallowed her nerves. She couldn’t chastise him. She’d been hoping he’d come to her all evening.

She sat up, kneeling. Reached for him before she even knew what she was doing. "I’m glad you came. I wanted to wish you a good night too, but I didn’t want it to be…discernible."

"Discernible?" he asked, his fingers slipping into her hair. "Recognizable for what?"

"That I want you. That I ache in places I never knew could throb… Before this afternoon that is."

He exhaled sharply. "Blast, Cordelia. This is wrong. If we’re caught…"

"You’ll ruin me. Yes, I know. But I don’t want to send you away.

" She ran her hands down his chest. Her gaze dipped lower, and she saw the proof of his arousal.

His manhood jutted against his breeches, and she slipped her hands over his person, feeling him through the soft material.

He pressed into her touch, hardening more, grinding himself against her clasp and sending her wits spiraling.

"Feels so good," he whispered.

She leaned forward, pulling his shirt out of his breeches, exposing his stomach.

Corded muscles flexed with each breath, and he smelled divine.

She pressed several small kisses against his stomach, and he sucked in a startled gasp.

Cordelia did not know what had overcome her, but nor could she stop.

Where had this wanton come from?

She was not herself when she was around him, and nor did she wish to be.